Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from India and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing La Düsseldorf to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Freddie Wadling,
Lungfish,
Swans,
Black Sheep,
The Last Poets,
Dave Gahan,
Ossler,
Tomorrow,
Pantaleimon,
Pussy Galore,
Cymande,
Minny Pops,
Make Up,
The Gun Club,
Gabor Szabo,
Fugazi,
Wings,
The Five Americans,
Roxette,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Soul Sonic Force,
Minutemen,
Black Pus,
The Human League,
The Slackers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sparks,
the Sonics,
Von Mondo,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Seeds,
Robert Hood,
Tubeway Army,
Bluetip,
Erykah Badu,
June Days,
Scott Walker,
Organ,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jandek,
Gregory Isaacs,
OOIOO,
The Names,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Al Stewart,
Unrelated Segments,
Sister Nancy,
Scan 7,
Connie Case,
The Sound,
Dennis Brown,
The Martian,
Quantec,
Peter and Kerry,
Procol Harum,
Soft Cell,
Joensuu 1685,
Delon & Dalcan,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.